crap I say, entertainment, family, humour, life

37 years

…for someone who grew up with teeth that never quite got along with the reluctant smile, feeling inconveniently born into the wrong era, and an absolute love of dancing that persisted beyond (and perhaps in total retaliation to) my circumstances…it’s not surprising really…

…that I absolutely love this song.

The first time I heard it, I fell in love. It simply spoke to me.

“Spinning, laughing, dancing to
her favourite song….
A little girl with nothing wrong
Is all alone…

…crooked little smile on her face
Tells a tale of grace
That’s all her own…

…and she’s all alone…”

Norah Jones – “Seven Years”

* * *

I don’t remember the verandah incident

But my Mum does.

She’s told me the story many times and, although I don’t remember it – except as an anecdote of someone else’s memory – for me, it will always remain a moment in time that is purely and simply…

ME

…she searched high and low for her 4 year old daughter….

Given that this quiet, amiable child was almost never out of sight, that the house sat atop a hill on one of the busiest main roads in Perth (….at the time…you’d skateboard blindfolded down there now) and that she was (oh, Mum, please forgive me…) prone to just a teensy bit of over-protectiveness…it was, to say the least, a frantic search!

When she finally found me, after peering into countless toy boxes, cupboards, lolly jars and other child favoured haunts….she was surprised at what she found.

The front window jimmied open (of course the front door was locked! Did you not just read the paragraph above?!) fly screen pushed out….

Her daughter, tiny, free…totally alone….

…..and perfectly happy!

twirling…
….on
the…

…..front……

verandah…

“What are you doing???” (Only a “scared out of her wits” mother can get away with this tone and still sound completely loving)

“….nothing….”

“Then why on a Gods earth are you outside??!!” (Cars screaming by, brakes screeching, all possible dangers known to man lurking just beyond the verandah…….)

I just wanted to dance”

* * *

The smile’s being straightened
I still like being alone occasionally
My mother doesn’t worry about me (as much) these days…

But I still just want to dance.

(And I’m 37)

So I do

crap I say, life

How dare you call me beautiful!

“…I’m so beautiful!”
“Look, Mummy….I can do it!”
“I did it, all by myself!”
“Oops! Try again….”

Ever notice how little kids talk? The way they so naturally and effortlessly praise themselves…positively affirming their own efforts, appearance and even their failures?

The sheer joy they possess, finding out their own capabilities…learning new things and finding out “who” they are. Pride and self-validation go hand in hand. As they stumble along the path of their tiny little lives, mistakes are simply brushed off, so confident are they in knowing that they can give it another go…and not feel a failure just because they have (technically) failed.

When they look in the mirror, they see perfection. When someone says “what a pretty dress!” Or “aren’t you a good swimmer?” they don’t miss a beat. They don’t have to think, or self analyse, or convince themselves it would be a good idea to agree. They just say “I know…”

I’m so jealous.

I can hardly remember a time when that kind of self love and self-acceptance was the voice I lived with. I am a confident person, I feel good about myself most of the time and I don’t think I’m that unattractive…and yet….there is still that voice….

You’re agreeing, aren’t you?

Yes. It’s an adult curse…we reach a certain age (6, 7, maybe 8, I don’t know) and we just become the most destructive, sadistic bastards you could ever imagine.

“I can do it!” becomes “I can’t/shouldn’t/don’t know how…”

“I did it!” gets felt momentarily, but quickly unravelled by thoughts of “it wasn’t that hard anyway” or “I could have done it better”

“I’m beautiful” turns into “I wish I looked like Miranda Kerr…”

This is crazy!! We actually hate ourselves…

So much so that whenever we are given a genuine compliment, we do our damnedest to convince them that they are wrong!

“Oh, this old thing?? It’s soooo old/only cost $5/makes me look fat”
“Trust me….you wouldn’t say that if you saw me before I’ve had my morning coffee…”
“It’s probably the lighting”

Why do we hate ourselves so much?
Why do we sabotage our own efforts, with critisim, self-doubt and “worse case” predictions?
Why can’t we lovingly talk to ourselves without fear it will make us appear conceited.

Why shouldn’t we feel beautiful…
Why shouldn’t we expect to do well?
And why shouldn’t we feel jump out of our skins happy-proud when we do…

The worst thing is we fill our lives with so many questions…and stop using exclamation marks.

it’s simply not good enough

So….guess what?

“I’M BEAUTIFUL!!!!!
And so are you 😊

… please feel free to agree…

I want so desperately to say

“I know”

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